"David Gemmell - Stones Of Power 5 - Shannow 3 - Bloodstone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

her/him. Cocking the pistol Isis/Shannow spun and fired in one motion. A child flung
back, his chest torn open. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
Isis clawed her way free of the memory, but did not fully withdraw. Instead she floated
upwards, allowing time to pass, halting only when the Jerusalem Man rode up to the farm
of Donna Taybard. This was different. Here was love.
The wagons were moving, and Isisi/Shannow rode out from them, scouting the land,
heart full of joy and the promise of a better tomorrow. No more savagery and death.
Dreams of farming and quiet companionship. Then came the Hellborn!
Isis withdrew and stood. 'You poor, dear man,' she whispered, brushing her hand over the
sleeping man's brow. 'I'll come back tomorrow.'
Outside the wagon Dr Meredith approached her. 'What did you find out?' he asked.
'He is no danger to us,' she answered.
*
The young man was tall and slender, a shock of unruly black hair cut short above the ears
but growing long over the nape of his neck. He was riding an old, sway-backed mare up
and over the Gap, and stared with the pleasure of youth at the distant horizons, where the
mountains reared up to challenge the sky. Nestor Garrity was seventeen, and this was an
adventure. The Lord alone knew how rare adventures were in Pilgrim's Valley. His hand
curled round the pistol butt at his hip, and he allowed the fantasies to sweep through his
mind. He was no longer a clerk at the timber company. No, he was a Crusader hunting
the legendary Laton Duke and his band of brigands. It didn't matter that Duke was feared
as the deadliest pistoleer this side of the Plague Lands. For the hunter was Nestor Garrity,
lethal and fast, the bane of war-makers everywhere, adored by women, respected and
admired by men.
Adored by women . . .
Nestor paused in his fantasy, wondering what it would be like to be adored by women.
He'd walked out once with Ezra Feard's daughter, Mary, taken her to the Summer Dance.
She'd led him outside into the moonlight and flirted with him.
'Should have kissed her,' he thought. 'Should have done some damn thing!' He blushed at
the memory. The dance had turned into a nightmare when she walked off with Samuel
Klares. They'd kissed. Nestor saw them down by the creek. Now she was married to him,
and had just delivered her first child.
The old mare almost stumbled on the scree slope. Jerked from his thoughts, Nestor
steered her down the incline.
The fantasies loomed back into his mind. He was no longer Nestor Garrity, the fearless
Crusader, but Jon Shannow, the famed Jerusalem Man, seeking the fabled city, and with
no time for women - much as they adored him. Nestor narrowed his eyes, and lifted his
hat from where it hung at his back. Settling it into place, he turned up the collar of his
coat and sat straighter in the saddle.
Jon Shannow would never slouch. He pictured two brigands riding from behind the
boulders. In his mind's eye he could see the fear on their faces. They went for their guns.
Nestor's hand snapped down. The pistol sight caught on the tip of his holster, twisting the
weapon from his hands. It fell to the scree. Carefully Nestor dismounted and retrieved the
weapon.
The mare, pleased to be relieved of the boy's weight, walked on. 'Hey, wait!' called
Nestor, scrambling towards her. But she ambled on, and the dejected youngster followed
her all the way to the bottom, where she stopped to crop at the dry grass. Then Nestor
remounted.
One day I'll be a Crusader, he thought. I'll serve the Deacon and the Lord. He rode on.
Where was the Preacher? It shouldn't take this long to find him. The tracks were easy to